Violet stifled a yawn. Everyone’s guidelights blinked out as the hall clock began to chime six o’clock. The sky was properly lightening now. Jack might be able to snatch a few more hours in bed.
The last strike of the clock melded into yet more music, though at least this time it was a melody instead of a held note. It announced that someone or someones recognised as friendly by the house wards had entered through the Bayswater tunnel.
“Early for a visit,” said Violet. “I hope nothing’s gone wrong on their end.”
“Oliver, bring them through here and then go and dress,” said Jack, giving up on the prospect of sleep. “I’ll be up to wash shortly.”
Soon afterwards, Oliver ushered three people into the parlour. Or rather, he scurried in the wake of Sir Robin Blyth, who was moving with urgent strides towards his sister, and managed to actually do some ushering on behalf of Edwin Courcey and—Jack blinked—Adelaide Morrissey. All three were in full evening wear, including a cloak over a deep red gown and white gloves on Adelaide, and they had the tight-eyed, radiant dishevelment of people who hadn’t touched their beds.
“Don’t you look splendid, Addy,” said Maud. “Oh, it was the Home Office ball, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, and one of the undersecretaries hosted a truly lethal party-after-the-party,” said Adelaide. “When Robin dragged us away there were people asleep in the ornamental fountain.”
“I had a vision. One of the urgent ones. You’re unhurt? All of you?” Robin peered with concern at Maud, who said hastily, “Yes, yes.”
“I see our assistance is unnecessary after all,” said Edwin. He looked particularly pinched. The idea of Edwin Courcey, of all people, attending an all-night social affair that left guests draped over fountainry was bizarre.
Jack settled himself further into his armchair. “You may inspect us for holes, though there might be complaints were I to disrobe. Or perhaps you wish to see if memory holds up.”
He let his gaze catch on Edwin’s. The man’s jaw set and annoyed colour filled his cheeks, but the only motion of his eyes was pointedly down to Jack’s bad leg and up again. An interesting showing of claws. This particular mouse of a magician had changed since taking up with Robin Blyth. He was becoming more fun to tease.
“Shut up, Hawthorn, there are ladies present,” said Robin without much rancour.
“His lordship is more than welcome to make a spectacle of himself. I doubt anyone here is interested enough to comment.” Adelaide’s dark brown eyes did a good line in a skeweringly superior stare. There was a giggle from Maud.
Violet let out a sigh and stretched her arms above her head. “Well,” she said, “I’d better tell Mrs. Smith there’ll be six for breakfast.”
* * *
“Only one battle wound this morning, Hawthorn,” said Violet, when Jack arrived in the breakfast room. “Oliver’s improving.”
The nick on Jack’s jaw itched all over again. He forced himself not to touch it and went to investigate the food instead. Violet’s cook had never met a vegetable she couldn’t over-boil, but she was a genius with anything that had once been part of an animal. Jack was prepared to accept the necessity of living in Spinet House as glorified bodyguard to Maud and Violet as long as the supply of ham was kept up.
“The boy resists the urge to cut Hawthorn’s throat despite being daily presented with the opportunity,” said Edwin. “There should be an award.”
Oliver was in fact a prodigiously skilled valet for his age and took fierce pride in his work. He was still just terrified enough of accidentally cutting Jack’s throat that it made him shaky. He’d settle down to it in another few weeks.
Jack’s old valet Lovett had served him well for years, but Jack was living in a magical household for the moment. He’d sent Lovett with a glowing reference to a man at his club and had engaged Oliver instead.
Or rather: Oliver had been, like greatness, thrust upon him.
“We’re all here now,” said Maud. “Tell us about the vision, Robin.”
There wasn’t a great deal to tell. Robin had been on the verge of nodding off in a corner of the undersecretary’s house when one of his unsummoned visions of the future burst into his consciousness: Jack himself, stick in hand, recoiling from a magical attack.
“It was very quick and crisp, and left me feeling like someone had been at my temples with a pickaxe. That usually means it’s one of the imminent ones. Just didn’t know how imminent.”
“I can only imagine what the cabbie must have thought of us, bundling in in a tearing rush at dawn and demanding to be driven to an Underground station halfway across the city,” said Adelaide.
“Addy used her maharajah’s-daughter voice on the poor man,” said Robin. “He was quite overwhelmed.”
Adelaide grinned and stopped tapping her ring on the table in order to pile the last of her scrambled eggs onto a fresh piece of toast, then piled a large amount of chutney on top of that.
“This is the fourth vision in a fortnight,” said Edwin. “Always when he’s falling asleep, and they always leave him feeling ghastly. I don’t like it.” He and Robin exchanged a conversation of a glance.
“Edwin’s trying to find a way to suppress them for me,” said Robin.
“Is that wise?” Violet set down her fork. “I hate to be a bully, if they’re getting as bad as all that, but … Robin, you’re one of the few things we have that the other side doesn’t.”
“The other side does have me.” The sleepless night was suddenly visible in the weight of Robin’s jaw. “I’m still under oath of truthful report to the Assembly, and the more the visions intrude on their own, the fewer spare ones I can manage to bring on at will so that I have something harmless to recite for them.”
“I’ll find something,” said Edwin, grim.
Robin gave him a small smile. “I know you will. Buck up.”
Edwin muttered something into his cup of tea, but his free hand turned over when Robin’s own slid against it, and he laced their fingers together. Edwin had never been comfortable with casual touch when Jack knew him. He gave off a miasma that discouraged it—and when intimate touch was involved, he submitted to it with an intensity that set Jack’s teeth on edge. Jack liked his bed partners to push back, and to laugh. Not every tumble had to be approached like the end of the world.
“Speaking of the fourth time in a fortnight,” said Violet, “I’ll have to start giving Dorothy hazard pay, or whatever it is they gave medieval armies. None of my household staff signed up for a siege.”
“Spinet seems to be holding up well,” said Edwin.